Chapter 20
‘Like the look of the Mumble Motel?’ Elliot asks, noticing my interest.
‘Just adding it to the list of places I’d like to see if this treasure hunt ever ends.’
‘At least we’re ticking off a lot of the sights here thanks to this hunt. It isn’t exactly how I envisioned exploring Firecrest but I mean… we’ve seen a lot.’
I can’t disagree with him. I just hope it isn’t all for nothing.
We step inside a tent made up of a few large white tipis attached together, which according to our map, is Pitstop 8.
The sounds of quiet conversation and crackling fire are refreshing for a Firecrest venue: there are no speakers, no bass, and there isn’t even a bar.
Since the air has cooled considerably in the early evening, people are lounging on worn rugs surrounding a fire pit, and the only member of staff sits next to a glass water canister and two wobbly towers of glasses.
Compared to the rest of the festival, it feels almost eerily quiet. I let the lack of sound wash over me, happily soaking up the peace while I can. It’s a genuine relief to not have constant thundering bass beneath my feet.
The heat of the fire quickly reaches me and I slide my jacket off my shoulders to tie it around my waist again. We take it in turns to hold claim to the stick whilst we fulfil quick tasks like this, which I’m grateful for.
My eyes scan around the fire pit area, trying not to infringe on the guests’ privacy as they continue their muffled discussions.
We decide to split and let go of the stick when Elliot gestures at the water tank. After filling one glass up, he immediately fills another and returns to offer it to me without a word. I take it gratefully and drain the contents in seconds.
When he starts looking around the space for clues, a distant and unidentifiable part of me feels so drawn to his presence that I automatically go to follow him, until I realise what I’m doing and mentally shake myself.
I direct my attention back to the task at hand and steer myself away to look for anything that could resemble a clue.
But I can’t find anything of use at all.
Amusingly, I find Elliot staring at a knitted wall hanging with more interest than the average person might.
I resign myself to the fact that this is likely a dead end, and sit down next to the fire pit on a huge, flattened cushion that is calling my name.
I waste no time taking the opportunity to stretch my legs out and twist my ankles in slow circles after a long day of walking.
The balls of my feet throb relentlessly.
Thoroughly unsurprising, given I can’t remember the last time I walked so much in such a short space of time.
After a few minutes, Elliot drops down next to me with a sigh and hands me another glass of water.
‘This one is tricky,’ he murmurs, taking a sip of his own.
‘Yeah, it seems to be eluding us.’
Exhaustion from the hunt and so many unpredictable events is starting to envelope my body. I take another deep breath and turn to him.
‘Maybe it just isn’t meant to be.’
His head spins back to me with surprise.
‘Didn’t think you’d give it up so easily, princess. Where’s that scary passion I was subjected to on the day I met you?’
‘You mean yesterday?’ I say, snickering.
‘Oh.’ He blinks. ‘Yeah, I suppose.’
‘It’s still there, it’s just… resting,’ I say, casting my eyes to the fire.
‘More than usual. You haven’t bitten my head off for a good few hours now,’ he notes, his usual smirk sitting comfortably on his face.
‘You’ve been less insufferable than usual.’
‘Thank you,’ he says dryly.
The strumming of a soft guitar emanates from the other side of the tent and a feathery, ethereal voice begins to sing alongside it.
The calming sound melts perfectly into the background.
Resting my chin on my knee, I close my eyes for a moment to drink it in, savouring the waves of heat from the fire on my cheeks.
It takes me another second to realise they’re singing a cover of a Queen Ego track called “Homecoming”. My eyes shoot open and I look at Elliot with glee. He straightens, sitting up quickly as if he’s been caught.
‘Well, what do you know?’ I say. ‘You know this one?’ My voice comes out a little snarky and I quickly reprimand myself, recalling our conversation earlier about my fan etiquette.
‘I actually love this one,’ he says calmly, watching the musician play. ‘I listened to it a lot last year.’
I’m surprised to hear the admission. ‘It’s not exactly the happiest song. Were you… okay?’
His expression is perfectly plain. ‘It wasn’t the best time, if I’m honest.’
I feel my face soften. ‘I’m sorry. What happened?’
‘A lot of things. I also broke up with someone last summer. We met at uni and she…’ his eyes briefly flicker to me. ‘Well. It didn’t work out,’ he says, shrugging.
My heart starts to beat faster as a result of this new territory we’re treading. Unsure how to respond, I tap my shoes against the worn rug beneath our feet in hesitation.
‘I’m sorry,’ I murmur.
Liar.
‘Don’t be,’ he replies, his voice light.
‘Alright, I won’t.’
I contemplate asking for the full story, but I don’t want to push for the details that he potentially prefers to keep private.
My brain is travelling at eight million miles an hour.
I can’t help but wonder if this ex-girlfriend broke his heart.
Or if he broke hers? The overwhelming curiosity wins almost immediately.
‘So, what happened? With her?’
He shrugs again. ‘We just weren’t… compatible,’ he says simply.
‘Ah, very political of you.’ I can’t prevent the smirk growing on my lips at his uncanny ability to avoid sharing information.
‘Well, it’s true, we just… something about us fundamentally didn’t work. It’s obvious now in hindsight, even if break-ups do kind of suck in the short term. But ultimately, it was a huge blessing.’
I nod. ‘Hmm. You do make a compelling point.’
His eyes are bright as they meet mine again.
‘Did I just successfully convince you to break up with someone without realising it?’
I splutter with a laugh. ‘Oh God no, there’s no boyfriend. The last guy was such a disaster I swore off dating.’ I find a sharp twig at my feet and chuck it into the fire.
‘I get that. I haven’t really been in the headspace to date.’ Something drops with a loud thud inside my stomach as his words ring in my ears. As I suspected, he is definitely not a guy looking for anything romantic. Apparently with anybody. ‘What made him so disastrous?’ he adds.
I make a noise of disgust and brush my fringe away from my eyes.
‘He’s a long, tragic story. But he basically had the fun, likeable guy routine absolutely locked down.
Like, really impressive. Hennie actually nicknamed him “Likeable Greg”,’ I recall with a snort.
‘We’d dated for four or five months when I realised he was so desperate to be liked that he needed to date handfuls of women at the same time.
And hide us all from each other. Then he decided he didn’t really need me in his roster, anyway. ’
Elliot’s face twists in disgust before turning vaguely murderous. ‘He’s a fucking idiot,’ he snarls.
I hum into my drink. ‘Yeah. Well. Hennie didn’t like him anyway so it never would have worked,’ I say flippantly. ‘I really should’ve known he wasn’t right. Our first date was watching his housemates play video games.’
His mouth is set in a grim line.
‘He said he’d make food but he didn’t fancy doing it in the end, and I got so hungry I had to go buy a snack,’ I admit quietly. ‘I think he barely noticed I left.’ I offset this tragic admission with an airy laugh.
Elliot’s expression is so troubled that I look away. ‘That date was his idea, I’m guessing?’
‘Yep.’ I stare bitterly into the fire.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says gently. ‘For what it’s worth, he sounds like a total piece of shit.’
I grin. ‘He was. But still, when he dumped me it was the closest I came to officially clocking out as a member of society and living under a bridge so I could force people to solve my riddles three. But you know. Hennie eventually coaxed me away from the idea with copious amounts of cuddles and cheese.’
He snorts.
‘The experience scarred me enough to make me delete the dating apps and promise myself I would never use them again though,’ I say.
‘I don’t blame you. I can’t use them,’ he says with a shake of his head.
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know,’ he muses. ‘I don’t think I come across very well… digitally.’
I find this extraordinary considering his profile would probably make his inbox explode but I don’t argue with him.
‘That’s fair enough. I don’t think Greg and I even had much in common so I’m not sure why we matched in the first place.’
‘Why did you keep going out with him?’ he prods.
I frown. ‘I don’t really know. I thought he seemed nice, seemed like he liked me. It felt like a… just a normal dating experience. I felt like I needed to try one of those.’
I devoured romance novels in plentiful quantities in my teens and quickly learned that the idea of embodying a loveable lead heroine was very much out of reach for me. Boys looked at me with a crushing combination of humour and scorn – the opposite of how a leading man treats a love interest.
To my dismay, the closest comparison I could possibly make to myself were unbearable films like She’s All That, where the gorgeous lead actress is deemed a ‘geek’.
And then she goes on to experience a magical ‘makeover’, (removes her glasses) and is unveiled as an entirely unexpected beauty.
I would scoff and roll my eyes every time, but the desperate romantic in me would still yearn for that moment when I might suddenly wake up with my freckles magically erased, my hair smoother and my body miraculously smaller and shorter.
Of course… that never happened.